Just Don't Ask
by gravity01
Summary: Christine returns.  Don't worry about trivialities like logic or common sense.  Some questions are better left unasked.


Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera. This oneshot is based off of the ALW musical.

Right, so, sometimes I fantasize about how great it would be if Christine had realized she loved Erik and gone back to him at the end. You do it too, don't lie. Today, though, I theorized about the logistics of such a decision. What would have to occur to make such an ending possible? My conclusion was this: just don't ask. It ruins the dream.

* * *

_This haunted face holds no horror for me now ...  
It's in your soul that the true distortion lies ..._

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Really, Erik?" Christine asked incredulously. She spread her arms, urging him to take a closer look around his lair. "Really?" she repeated.

The music abruptly halted. "Is something the matter with my house?" said Erik indignantly.

"This is not a house! This is an opera!"

"It is the only place I belong! The world has no pity for a creature such as myself."

"What kind of creature is that? Look, you are an able-bodied, ridiculously talented, genuinely handsome man…"

Erik growled. "You mock me!"

Christine just shrugged. "Alright, so half of your face looks like it was run over by a train… but you cover that up with a mask anyway so no one's the wiser. You should consider yourself lucky that the mask works so well with your persona. It definitely gives you the 'mysterious' appeal… on most people it would just be creepy."

When Erik did not respond, Christine continued on, "So, right, where was I? Oh yes… genuinely handsome man with more money than you know what to do with and you are playing ghost under an opera house like you did when you were thirteen."

"THIS IS NO GAME, CHRISTINE!"

Christine was done being bullied for the moment. She continued on her tirade as if he wasn't criminally insane and looking for a reason to destroy her and her fiancé.

"Look, do you think you're the only one out there that doesn't look quite right? I met a woman, once, who was burned in a fire. Her face _and_ hands were disfigured. Raoul has a gardener with a hook instead of a hand. A gardener! With a _hook_!"

"So what?"

"So… neither of them live under an opera. In fact, there are thousands of disfigured and disabled people in the world who also don't live under operas. They are also not murderers and kidnappers and extortionists. All those attributes seem to go to you alone---a reasonably healthy man with a boo-boo on his face. Doesn't that make your soul sound just a teensy bit distorted?"

Thankfully, Erik was saved from responding from the well-timed arrival of Raoul.

In an instant, Raoul found a rope wrapped firmly around his neck. This day had not gone well.

"Enough of this!" cried the Phantom, "Make your choice, Christine!"

With maddened eyes, Erik watched his love approach. She was so beautiful; her hair was dark like chocolate and her eyes were as blue as… erm… he looked around for an appropriate analogy… _ah yes_, he thought, looking down. Her eyes were as blue as lake water.

As she sang, she glided through the water---looking far more sane and graceful than most women would look wading through stagnant water and singing with an invisible orchestra---towards Erik. The affection starved man hardly knew what hit him when the woman he adored reached up to his hideous face and kissed him. Twice.

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"Did you really have to kiss him?"

"Yes, Raoul. Don't you see? I knew that once he had a taste of what I could offer, he'd be willing to give me up and live on the one memory forever."

"Like eating one potato chip and then stopping?"

"Now you've got it."

Suddenly Christine became very quiet. Her gaze kept drifting between the diminishing shore and the ring in her hand.

"What's wrong Christine? You should be happy. I'm fairly sure we sung a song implying that."

"I… I've still got his ring…" she murmured absently, then her eyes grew wide. "Raoul, stop! You must take me back!"

"Now see here, darling, I'm not taking you back just to give him his ring back."

Christine looked puzzled.

Raoul sighed. "Listen… I hate that man more than anyone else in this world. But you going back there right now is too cruel even for me to wish on him."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Darling, you just ripped the man's heart in two. Now you want to go back? And say what, I might ask. 'Hello, Erik. Remember how I just destroyed your whole world? Oh, well, just in case you had forgotten in the last five minutes, I've returned to give you a little parting gift to remember me by. While I'm at it, here, let me kick you in the good side of your face and even things out.'? Is that what you had in mind?"

Christine lowered her eyes. That actually was what she had in mind… until he said it like that. Then she looked up and shook her head wildly.

"No! No, Raoul… I mean, you must take me back to him. I can't marry you. I love Erik. Please, take me back!"

Raoul thought for a moment and then sighed, "Well, he's an abusive and volatile control freak, not to mention a remorseless murderer. I've also gone way out of my way to save you from him--all culminating tonight as he almost strangled me to death. But… even though you're emotional and irrational right now, you seem to love him. I guess all that's left for me to do is give you up without a fight."

"Thank you, Raoul! I knew you'd understand. You're such a good friend."

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"Christine… I love you!"

"Yes, I know, Erik. Look--even though I had months to think of a decision that would affect the rest of my life, I changed my mind in the last thirty seconds and decided to give up the stuffy life that comes with having an emotionally and financially stable husband who would die for me and live with you in this cave so that we can bask in each other's love and sing all day like a couple of melodramatic, hormonally charged teenagers."

"What are you saying?"

"Silly! I'm saying that I love you and that I've come to live with you."

"But what about your precious _vicomte_?"

Christine shrugged. "I think I will always love him…" She really didn't have a reasonable explanation, but figured Erik would get angry if she stopped her sentence there, "but I can only think of him as a brother."

"Ew." Erik grimaced, "I saw you and your _brother_ doing some nasty things on the rooftop, then."

"Yes, well… in retrospect, leading on one very influential man and one very dangerous man at the same time wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done. At any rate… Raoul will be fine. He'll always have Meg."

"Meg? What does she have to do with anything?"

"Well, I know nobody really knows much about her, but she's my best friend, so I figured that alone would make her a perfect candidate for my lover's rival. Besides, as long as Raoul is in the market for an unsuitable bride, one ballerina/chorus girl is as good as another."

"Interesting. And what does Little Giry have to say about that?"

"Oh she'll be fine I'm sure. She's just a minor character and a ballerina and everyone knows they don't have feelings like the rest of us. I already decided long ago that she could have whatever man I didn't want. That way there is a girl for each guy and everyone is happy."

"Fair enough. But how do I know you won't just change your mind and abandon me again?"

Christine smirked. "I guess you're just going to have to trust me." she said lightly.

"Well… trust doesn't come easy for me since I've been mistreated my entire life and the world hasn't given me any reason to trust anyone and, when I finally allowed myself to open my heart up to someone, she betrayed me and left me broken and alone only to return a few minutes later because of motivations that are not entirely clear… but, aw, heck! Why not? What have I got to lose except my last remaining shred of dignity. Okay, Christine. I'll trust you."

Christine simply smiled as she pressed her lips to his in another kiss. Erik was intoxicated. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and her kiss tasted sweet like honey. Yesterday, Erik would have wondered why a woman who is covered in sweat, grime, theatre makeup, and dirty water would smell and taste like a well made coffee cake. Today, however, Erik had learned that some questions were just better left unasked.

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End file.
